


Match Point: Three Times Valtteri Filppula failed at his job and one time it didn’t matter.

by coup_de_foudre



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 22:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13580451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coup_de_foudre/pseuds/coup_de_foudre
Summary: Val is a professional matchmaker.. He's successfully found soulmates for a number of royal clients, so why is handsome and charming Prince Brayden so difficult to match up?





	Match Point: Three Times Valtteri Filppula failed at his job and one time it didn’t matter.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deputyperrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deputyperrish/gifts).



> Author’s Note: This is a royalty AU wherein the Bolts are royalty, nobility, and others around them. This ’verse has not left Tampa Bay bereft of a hockey team, though; here the Tampa Bay Lightning are portrayed by the Syracuse Crunch.
> 
> One small warning - there is a brief mention of a long ago death of a (minor, original) character. It is not explicitly described and there is no other violence or death in the fic.
> 
> For deputyperrish. I hope you enjoy this. I loved your prompts and all your pairings, so I tried to give at least a nod to them.

**0\. Brayden**

It was January, but Valtteri Filppula had the top down because this was Florida—not his home in Vantaa, or his townhouse in Philly, or even the (admittedly stunning) castles and palaces of Canada, where most of his clients lived most of the time. He loved all of those places, but this time of year, Val was grateful that Tampa was the lively heart of the winter social season for the northern royalty. For a professional matchmaker and bond counselor like Val, the beautiful engagement photos were evidence of a job well done.

On the seat next to him, a leather folder held the information on his newest client. His assistant Mikko had done the preliminary intake, but Val had reviewed the file thoroughly in advance of this meeting. Brayden of Alberta would be the first prince of the Western Kingdoms to work with Val, as most of the families there tended to summer in California. According to Mikko’s notes, the main reason the House of Point had made a change of venue this season was to introduce Prince Brayden to a new set of people in hopes of him finding a bondmate. Not that Val wasn’t grateful for the business, but he wondered if King Grant wasn’t being a little impatient. It wasn’t terribly rare for someone to make it to their midtwenties with an indistinguishable mark, and for royals, it was even more common. Val had always held with the theory that because royal children generally led formal lives, with rigid protocols even early in life, their ability to bond was delayed until they’d had the opportunity to relax and let themselves be open to one. Val always made his philosophy known to his prospective clients before they signed a contract. “Your heir won’t be interviewing candidates they already know. All potential bondmates are thoroughly vetted, but they will be selected from a wider pool than you may expect.”

It was that last phrase that sometimes caused consternation; Val was surprised at the number of clients who expected him to set up dates with acquaintances or even friends of the family.

“But we had so hoped for Jack and Sidney to bond with each other,” Val remembered Lord Johnson whinging to him. “They are such good friends and so well suited for one another, not to mention the convenience of an alliance with the House of Halifax would be such a boon for us.”

Val had smiled tightly and reminded Lord Johnson that if their children had been compatible, they wouldn’t have needed a bondmaker in the first place, but some people refused to see reason. Fortunately King Grant appeared much more reasonable, if slightly eager. Nothing about the family, though, or even Prince Brayden, made Val think this would be much of a challenge. The young man’s reputation was spotless; everyone seemed to like him. He had been a good student, an accomplished athlete, had a calm demeanor, and was handsome, if a trifle unpolished compared to some of his peers in the Atlantic Realms. That was certainly something Val could handle.

The Points’ winter home was a beautiful waterfront mansion. A pair of smartly uniformed security officers gave him a thorough though polite inspection, and Val expected to be greeted by a similarly well turned out butler at the front door.

Instead, just after he rang the bell, there was a cacophony of barking and yelping followed by a bellowed “Vinny! Marty! Hush!” then a “Just a minute, I’m coming,” and finally the click of a deadbolt and the soft creak of a heavy door.

It wasn’t a butler but a fit young man, fresh from the water, sun-kissed, in a damp T-shirt and faded board shorts. He was grinning like Val was a long-lost friend. The way he looked, Val almost wished he was. If wasn’t taken aback by appearances often, but this young man was an exception.

“Hi. You must be Valtteri. I’m Brayden. Thanks for coming.”

**1\. Jake**

To Val’s surprise, while Brayden’s father had suggested a bondmaker, it was the prince himself who took the lead in dealing with Val. From their first meeting where Brayden had greeted him with casual friendliness, he’d been exceptionally enthusiastic and engaged about the process.  
As Val drove them to the meeting with Brayden’s first date, Brayden flipped through the packet on Jake.

“Wow, a professional golfer, that’s pretty cool. I was afraid this might be all, I don’t know, sixty-year-old oil barons or something.”

Val chuckled and glanced at Brayden as they stopped at a traffic light. He was flushed and a little jittery, drumming the fingers of one hand on his knee, but he was smiling.

“I do try not to suggest people who wouldn’t interest you. But if you’d like an oil man facing retirement, I can see what—”

“No, thank you, not that old,” Brayden interrupted. “Besides, I trust your judgment. I googled you, you know.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Only fair, right? Your Mikko person collected all this info on me and gave me that five-hundred-page questionnaire—”

“Eight,” Val corrected.

“A lot of pages! Anyway, only fair. So, you’ve been like super successful.”

“Thank you.”

“The Duke of Markham, then Prince Pernell, and especially Lord Seguin, I mean who’d have thought—” Brayden stopped abruptly.

“Thought what, Your Highness?” Val tried to sound seriously curious but Brayden’s obvious embarrassment at his near-gossiping made it too difficult not to crack a smile. 

“He was like a total flirt with everyone last season, showing off his wrist that had like nothing. No smudge even, and he said he never would. Now he’s engaged and bonded. How?”

“Found the right person for him.” Val made it sound easy even though it hadn’t been.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“About Lord Seguin? No, client confidentiality. About Jake Dotchin, yes, please, as we’ll be meeting him in a half hour.” Val tried to steer Brayden back to the date. It was almost a pity, because he found Brayden pleasant to talk to, but he wasn’t here to be the prince’s pal, as easy as that would be. For not the first time, Val was a little surprised that this open, friendly young man had never had even an early sign of a bondname on his wrist. If anyone should have been an exception, it would be Brayden.

“About bonds in general.” Brayden held his hand out in front of him, his wrist turned up. “Is there something wrong with me that I’ve got this? Like worse than if I had nothing at all?”

The inside of his wrist was decorated with a grayish brown smear, like he’d wiped his arm through old ink. “It’s kind of, um, depressing-looking? Almost like my bondname had been wiped out, like maybe my person died.”

Val hit the brakes harder than he intended as a pang of grief smacked him in the gut.

“Val? Are you okay? The light’s, um, it’s green.”

“So it is. Sorry, I thought I saw something. Anyway, next left and we’re there. I’m sure Jake will be glad to meet you.”

Hidden underneath the crisp french cuffs of his shirt, Val’s wrist throbbed uncomfortably.

*  
The first meeting went well; Val and the security team trailed at a discreet distance while the prince and the pro played a round of golf. The date ended with a warm handshake, and in the car afterwards, Brayden said he’d like to meet Jake again.

He sounded eager, which was slightly surprising, since he’d admitted to not having wanted a second date in over a year, but more surprising, and not in a good way, was the queasy feeling Val got when Brayden suggested it. He mentally chastised himself. Jake Dotchin had excellent references and had passed all background checks. Val must be reacting to the sandwich he’d had for lunch; the queasiness was far more likely to be related to the shrimp salad than anything about the date.

He managed an encouraging “Very good. Shall I set something up for next Friday?”

Brayden shook his head. “I’ve got an idea, if that’s okay?”

“By all means, taking initiative is a good sign.” Val swallowed hard, willing the pitching in his stomach to stop.

“Cool. Okay, there’s this little food truck, it has the best gourmet burgers and poutine. It’s kind of funky and it’s owned by this French Canadian guy who’s hysterical. I think Jake would like that sort of thing. Really casual, not royal at all. He mentioned hating formal dinners so this would be good, I think.

“Sounds like a plan,” Val said. It was considerate of Brayden to suggest a date where Jake would feel comfortable. It was a trait that Val had noticed almost immediately and one sadly not shared by the majority of his clients. Brayden was utterly disinterested in showing off about his illustrious family or their wealth. Instead he focused on what made others comfortable. His courtesy wasn’t just reserved for his potential partners either. He’d already noted what Val liked to drink (coffee in the mornings, lemonade after lunch), and how Val liked to start meetings (precisely on time) and what music he enjoyed while driving (Brayden had even asked Val to share a playlist that he’d enjoyed). His demeanor would make Val’s job so much easier, though Val couldn’t help but regret that would mean less time spent with a young man who was already becoming a favorite client.

Friday was clear and a little cool. It was warm enough for Canadians like Jake and Brayden to eat at one of the picnic tables, as well as for Val and the security detail (Swedes, both of them), but the breeze kept the locals away from Yanni’s Yumburger, so much so that the proprietor closed early, accepting Brayden’s invitation to join them.

“That looks like a happy group.” Corporal Stralman nodded at them. Yanni had brought out a six-pack of local beers. The three young men were laughing over a shared joke.

“Chemistry is a funny thing,” Val said. “You’d probably never think a western prince and a golfer from Ontario would hit it off—”

“I certainly wouldn’t think that now,” Lieutenant Hedman chimed in. He gestured to the other table with his water bottle. “Considering.”

Val pushed his sunglasses up to better focus on what shouldn’t be happening. Jake and the burger cook were sitting so close that Yanni was nearly in his lap. They were eating fries from a shared plate, and across from them, Brayden was speaking animatedly. Val cocked his head to eavesdrop.

“You guys have got to go there, I’m serious. It’s so great. I know the chef; I call him tomorrow and tell him to give you the best table,” Brayden was telling them.

Yanni and Jake nodded eagerly as Val just shook his head.

He might be bad at his job today, but at least his stomach was feeling better.

**2\. Tyler**

Val sat across from Brayden in the library of the enormous house. The curtains were open to give them a view of the water, the dogs were snoozing at their feet, and Cook had brought them lemonade. Given the surroundings and the company, Val could almost forget he was working.

Brayden’s phone chimed. He swiped at the screen, then read the text out loud. “Yanni’s parents are coming to town to meet Jake and—wait hold on, another text, and this is so freaking cool—Val look.”

Brayden held up his phone to show a photo of an arm. It was a little blurry, but the script on the wrist unmistakably read Jake.

“That’s quite fast.”

“I know, right? They’re so clearly meant for each other. And you get some credit too, because they never would have met if I hadn’t brought Jake there! Maybe you’re rubbing off on me!”

 _Rubbing off on me_. Val’s brain supplied a totally inappropriate alternative for that innocent phrase. He was probably getting too comfortable, never a good idea around a client. He took a long gulp of lemonade before sitting up straighter in the plush chair and rolling up his sleeves to show he was ready to get to work.

“If heir to the throne wasn’t already a career lock for you, we’d take you on,” Val joked. “Now, let’s see who you’re meeting this week.”

He held out a manila folder for Brayden, who reached for it but paused without taking it.

“What’s the matter?” 

Brayden had gone still. Val followed his gaze to Val’s own wrist, free for once of the french cuffs.

“I, um, that’s rude of me,” Brayden stammered as he shifted his gaze away.

“It’s all right. Careless of me to leave it uncovered. I usually wear a bracelet if I’m expecting to be bare armed.” Val frowned at the scar. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No,” Brayden protested. He moved to touch Val’s arm but pulled back, blushing furiously. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just, um. Doesithurt?” The words came out in an embarrassed rush.

“No,” Val answered, then added, “Or to be more truthful, it doesn’t hurt physically, except for a bit of aching from time to time.”

Brayden looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Val felt compelled to fill the silence. “His name was Matias. We were quite unusual; I never knew what it was like not to have a word on my wrist, nor him. We met in kindergarten. He was my best friend, as we were too young for anything else. He was killed in a car accident when were thirteen.”

“Val, oh, God, I’m so sorry.” Brayden reached out again, squeezing Val’s fingers. “I can’t imagine.”

“It’s been a long time. I’ve been without a soulmate now longer than I was with one. But thank you. I think it’s part of why I chose the profession I did. Everyone asks me that and it’s probably accurate; I’m vicariously enjoying the bonds I’m helping make.”

“You can get another, though, right? I mean, it happens.” Brayden still held on to Val’s fingers like he was afraid Val might slip away.

“It can happen, yes. Although it might not, or might not until I’m very old. But I don’t need a bondmate to enjoy my life or feel fulfilled.”

Brayden was biting his bottom lip as he looked down at Val’s wrist, or maybe where he was grasping at Val’s fingers.

“It’s okay, Brayden. Truly.”

“No, it’s really not,” Brayden muttered, but he let Val go and took the file.  
He read it quietly for a few minutes.

“Tyler, Margrave of Spokane. Raises goldendoodles. Waterskiing aficionado. Enjoys steak dinners and walks on the beach.”

Brayden sounded less than enthused, but Val blamed the heavy conversation they’d been having. “Westerner, like you. Loves his dogs; have you looked at his social media? He’s athletic, outdoorsy, very down to earth. Hardly see him in a tux, though he looks very nice in one, page six, I think, if you want to see for yourself.”

Brayden tossed the folder to the side table. “He seems good. Set something up for Saturday. Fishing trip, maybe?”

“It’s a date.”  
*  
On paper, the Margrave was a wonderful choice. Like Brayden, he was inexplicably single despite good looks and ample charm. Val thought that he ought to have a better feeling about it. He wasn’t queasy, exactly, but there was something nagging at him. He’d avoid eating a mayonnaise-based sandwich in the sun this time just in case.

The Twins was a bright blue and white fishing boat, skippered by a Czech and a Russian who seemed to have as much fun teasing each other as they did showing the two young royals how to fish. Their banter was entertaining, especially to Tyler, who seemed to share the same sense of humor. Soon he was chirping them both back. It was fascinating to watch, three humans in almost perfect sync.

“Neat, isn’t it? Unusual, though, three?” Brayden was saying in Val’s ear. Val hadn’t even heard him.

“You snuck up on me.”

“Had to get my stealth on. Didn’t want to interrupt the three-way over there.” Brayden grinned and leered.

“Brayden! That’s terrible!” Val tried to chide him, but his expression was too goofy and, Val realized when he looked over at Tyler and the fishermen, Brayden was exactly right.

“Good thing this is an open boat or they’d be down in a cabin doing, um, I don’t know any naughty puns for having sex in a boat, come to think of it. How about—”

Val put his finger up to Brayden’s mouth to shush him, but he pulled it back when he felt a twinge of pain.

“You’re getting sunburned.” Brayden picked up Val’s hand. “Ow! Your arm too. I think Heddy brought an extra shirt; we need to get you covered up.”

Val nodded, letting Brayden fuss over him, unable to do anything else because he was too focused on his tingling, too-red fingers and the burn and throb under the scar on his wrist.

**3\. Braydon**

Val slept uncomfortably, tossing and turning. His wrist throbbed even though after a shower it didn’t look pink and burned anymore. It unsettled him to look at it so, so he slapped a bandage on it, which made it look more serious than it was, but at least there was no one else to see.

Val turned on the coffee maker and reached for his files. His calendar was clear for the day, so he could make a few calls, maybe line something up for his client, then maybe drive out to the beach to the quirky little seafood place with the good fish tacos. But first, he’d review at least ten potential candidates to forward.

Ironically, the better he got to know Brayden, the harder it was to find anyone suitable. Usually after Val spent more time with a client, they revealed little nuances of their habits and personality that gave Val an “a-ha,” moment which led to him finding the soulmate. It wasn’t happening that way with Brayden, and not because he was a jerk, or lazy, or any of the other things that could make a person unreceptive. It was almost the opposite. Brayden was well liked and pleasant to everyone he interacted with. He was happy when Val came to the house, seemingky happy to do the work to fond his mate. It had become a habit for Brayden to host Val in the comfortable library with the Point household cook bringing in a wonderful lunch for them to share. When Val opened his briefcase, Brayden would come look over his shoulder, crowding him as they reviewed the candidates. Val wondered if it would feel strange in the future to have a client who wasn’t literally breathing down his neck. Another odd thing, there was the smeared mark on Brayden's wrist. It was possibly a birthmark but in Val's experience, such marks were often a sign of unrequited love or a yearning for something specific, when someone had a specific type of person or persons in mind but was smothering desire. Long ago, such blurry marks were much more common, when same-sex bonds and polyamorous bonds were commonly subject to bigotry and prejudice. But Brayden was certainly happily out about being gay and his aunt was in a relationship with a man and a woman, so the family was clearly not averse to that. It was something Val would like to figure out.

It was frustrating and puzzling, enough to call for a second cup of coffee.

Halfway through the pour, his doorbell rang. Val frowned. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries, and his gated neighborhood wasn’t usually bothered by solicitations, but sometimes one got through. He’d politely but firmly tell them to leave him alone.

Val plastered on his “I am a reasonable man but I have a bit of a temper” face and opened the door.

“Hi.” Brayden waved with one hand and held out a paper sack in the other. The scent of fresh pastry wafted up, making Val’s stomach growl.

Brayden grinned. ”I guess that means I can come in.”

Val stepped aside even though he was having trouble finding the right words since What are you doing here? would sound a bit rude.

“You’re probably like, ‘What are you doing here?’” Brayden padded through the foyer, leaving Val to follow in his wake. He swung left, taking a lucky turn towards the kitchen. “Hey I found it! And ooh, you have coffee already made! I nearly bought some, but cold coffee sucks. Anyway, you looked kind of rough yesterday, and you said you were too busy to even get to the market much less cook, so I asked Heddy for your address, and when I got to your gate, well, turns out your neighborhood security officer is a loyal Canadian Royalty Review subscriber. So she just let me in. How about that?”

As he prattled, Brayden was setting out a variety of croissants, danishes, and little tarts. Val was still gobsmacked at his initiative and thoughtfulness. It made the lack of potential soulmates for him all the more confounding. The young man was quite a catch.

Brayden stopped talking and looked at Val, apparently noticing he hadn’t said anything. “Um, maybe I shouldn’t have come?” He cringed, embarrassed as his expression crumbled. It made Val want to hug him.

“No, no, it’s fine. Great! And thank you for bringing us breakf—”

Brayden’s cringe fell into a full-body wince. “Oh, God! You have company, don’t you? Shit, um, I mean, rats! Okay, you guys enjoy the food and I’ll just—”

He looked wrecked. Val’s heart hurt to listen to him. “Brayden, no, slow down.” He grasped Brayden’s arm, brushing his bandaged wrist in the process. He felt an unexpected sharp pang radiating from his wrist but he held on, trying not to grimace. “Brayden, no one else is here. I meant bringing us breakfast, you and me. It’s sweet. I was just a little surprised is all.”

“Oh.” Brayden’s shoulders sagged. “Good. I thought….” His voice trailed off.

Val raised an eyebrow. “Mm. You thought wrong. Just me and the files. And no food in the house, so yes, I am very grateful.”

Brayden’s smile emerged again; Val was charmed as always to see it.

“Now we can have a lovely breakfast and fresh coffee, and you can tell me what you think of our latest candidates.”

Brayden was dropping almond croissant crumbs on the page, but Val wasn’t bothered. It was nice for him to be so interested, leaning against Val as they turned the pages.

“Lord Vinik is hosting a ball for the Duke of Markham next week. As so far you’re without an escort, we can arrange one. It will be public for a first meeting, but there will be dancing and socializing, so not too much pressure.” Val pointed at the photograph on the page. “This handsome young man is Count Vladislav—”

“No.” Brayden shook his head.

“No, not handsome?” Val turned his head, bringing them nearly nose to nose. Brayden smelled like marzipan, which was slightly distracting.

“He’s very handsome, and blond which is nice, but he’s so young.”

“He’s several years older than you,” Val pointed out, but Brayden rolled his eyes.

“I’m really starting to think maybe this isn’t working because I need someone more mature who’s ready to settle down. Do you have anyone like that?”

Val pursed his lips. “Older, blond, and ready to settle down.” He flipped through the candidates. “I can do two of three.”

Brayden snorted but after a minute relented, agreeing to allow Braydon Coburn, Esq., of Calgary to escort him to the ball.

“Okay, I’ll give it a go. But these pastries aren’t going to hold me for long. You know any place for tacos? And a beer. Maybe a beach.”

“Turns out I know just the place.”

 

*  
Val stood to the side of the dance floor, watching the light play on the silk and velvet of suits and dresses. He liked dancing, though thanks to work, he rarely indulged. His tuxedo was still as crisp as when he put it on, as he’d done nothing more strenuous as observing.

“It’s terrible, isn’t it?” A young man with barely controlled curls and an intense gaze stood beside him. He was also looking at the dancers, his lips curled in a frown.

“Not a fan of dancing?” Val asked.

“Not a fan of watching the man I love dance with someone else.” He gestured with his champagne flute. Val followed the gesture to a couple in the corner. It was Brayden and Mr. Coburn.

“I beg your pardon?” Val didn’t recognize this young man. Val would be surprised if he knew Brayden as Val's research on the prince’s friends and acquaintances had been very thorough.

“Braydon. He’s my boss, sure, but that shouldn’t make a difference.”

It took Val a minute to parse the sentence, but the young man was already handing off his glass to a passing waiter, then tugging up his sleeve so he could show Val his wrist.

The writing was faint and blurry, but the name definitely began with a B, then an r, with an illegible squiggle in the middle until the o and final n.

“It just started coming in last week before he came down here to meet with a matchmaker.” The young man nearly spat the last word. “I haven’t even seen his wrist yet, but if there’s not at least an S and an l there, I’ll eat my truck. Do you have any idea what I had to do to crash this party just to come see him dance with that prince?”

Val sighed heavily. Client success or no, he’d never stand in the way of a true soulmate.

“A moment,” he said to the young man before he strode across the room to where Brayden and Coburn were swaying to the slow music.

Val did the only thing he could do. He tapped Coburn on the shoulder. “Pardon me, but your attention is required elsewhere. May I cut in?”

**And 1. Valtteri**

“I’ve failed you.” Val slumped against his seat. Across from him in the back of the limo, Brayden leaned forward, his forearms braced on his thighs. He was disheveled but still gorgeous. Val didn’t want to look at him, but he didn’t want to look away either. 

“You did a really great thing back there. What else should a matchmaker be doing if not bringing soulmates together?” 

It was true, and Val knew it. He should be happy with that, at least, but he still felt empty. Even after seeing Coburn and the young Slater dancing together, he felt off. Itchy, frustrated, a bit hot.  
His tuxedo jacket lay tossed to the side beside Brayden’s, and he’d rolled up his sleeves again. His wrist, still bandaged, seemed to be mocking the whole concept of soulbonds. 

You should get that looked at.” Brayden nodded at it. 

“It’s nothing. Sometimes scars just ache,” Val demurred. “I’ll put some ice on it later.” 

“Ice, there’s an idea.” Braydon’s eyes were bright. “You’re a Finn, I bet you can skate fairly decent, I mean not like Canadians, but not bad.” 

He was teasing, but Val couldn’t let the insult to his people pass. “I’ve played league hockey for years and Canadians have never impressed me much,” he lied. 

“Oh, yeah? Well now it is on. Be ready at ten am.” Brayden grinned. “We’re picking you up, right, Stralsy?” He knocked on the glass partition, getting a tap back in return. 

Val was getting the feeling that for once, he was the one being set up. 

*  
At ten sharp, the limo pulled up. He’d obeyed Brayden’s text instructions: _No dress clothes. Skate clothes only. Make sure your skates are sharp_. 

“Rent out a local rink?” Val asked as he got in the car. 

“Something like that,” Brayden said. 

Val became more suspicious as the car took them towards Channelside. He shook his head in disbelief. “Brayden, just which rink did you reserve?” 

“You know Daniel Walcott?” 

Val nodded. He followed hockey well enough to recognize the name of one of the Lightning’s alternate captains and an NHL All-Star. 

“Met him at a charity thing last year. We kept in touch and he helped me arrange this since the Bolts are on a roadie. Pretty good on me, I think.” 

He was beaming proudly. It was a good look for him. 

“Well done, though maybe you should have kept this in your pocket for—” an actual date, Val was about to say, but Brayden cut him off with a shake of his head. 

"Nope. Don’t say any more. In fact, don’t say anything else until after I’ve kicked your ass.” 

“As if you could.” 

“Could. Can and will. Dinner at Bern’s says so.” 

Brayden’s planning extended to having his security detail suit up as well. Hedman and Stralman played competent defense and egregious goaltending as Brayden and Val challenged each other in their one-on-one skills competition. Other than faceoffs, Brayden held the advantage, and he absolutely had Val dead to rights in the shootout, even considering the lackluster goaltending. Brayden was fast, with great hands, so by the time Val admitted defeat, every muscle should have been tired, but he felt great. Nothing ached and he felt better than he had in weeks. Even his wrist had stopped hurting. 

As he was stripping off his gloves by the bench, Brayden skated over. “You looked good out there.” 

Val shrugged. “Thanks, but you looked better.” 

Brayden nodded. “Yeah, I did.” 

Val’s eyes widened in surprise. Brayden never boasted about anything, but his smile was unmistakably smug. “Brayden! You sound very proud of yourself.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he whispered, so close that Val leaned in instinctively to hear. “Because I won,” he murmured as he pulled Val closer and kissed him. 

Val dropped his stick so he had both hands free to set on Brayden’s waist. Brayden draped his arms over Val’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss. They swayed precariously for a moment; Val had never kissed anyone on skates, at least not like this, deep and passionate, with an imminent threat that the both of them could topple over at any time. It was wonderful, but ridiculous, to be doing this. 

To be doing this with his client. 

It was a terrible idea. 

Val turned his head to break this kiss, but Brayden just nuzzled at his jaw. “Need a breather?” 

Val’s heart sank. Something cold clenched in his guts, and his wrist throbbed. “Brayden, this is a terrible idea. I understand that you’re frustrated with the progress of finding your soulmate, but if it’s a matter of being sexually frustrated, we can—” 

“Hell yes,” Brayden muttered, nipping at his ear. 

“Find a discreet service so you can scratch that itch,” Val finished even as the words tasted like wet ash in his mouth. 

“Hell no,” Brayden protested. 

Val felt sick with what he had to say. “To get to this point, I’ve obviously not been paying enough attention to what you need.” 

This time it was Brayden who pulled back. “No, you’ve been paying just the right amount attention. Everything you’ve done, you’re always thinking about me, what I’m like, what I want, and making me think about it too. I know now why I never got more than a smear on on my wrist. I didn’t think enough about who I was or what I could be for someone else even as I fantasized about the kind of man I'd like. I wasn't thinking about what a real relationship would be like but I am now. You did that. I’m more grateful than you know, but Val, what you’ve not been paying attention to is yourself.” 

Val shook his head, but Brayden continued, “That’s okay, though, because I have. I know how you like getting dressed up even if you don’t let yourself dance. That you wilt in the heat sometimes, but you thrive on the ice. You like strong coffee and have a sweet tooth, but you like sharing even your favorites. But every time you’ve set me up, you failed.” 

“Brayden, I—” Val started, but the words he should say, you have a crush because you’re impatient and frustrated, fought with the words he wanted to say, the ones his heart was protesting were true even as his head refused to believe it. 

“And if you look at my wrist, you’ll know why. Or even better, since it’s time to put your focus there, look at yours.” 

Val let Brayden take his wrist in his hand. He kissed the cuff of Val’s sleeve before he pushed the fabric of Val’s shirt out of the way and peeled back the bandage. Val didn’t trust himself to look until it was too late to see the word, because Brayden was kissing him there. 

It was the loveliest thing Val had ever felt; he hoped it might go on for longer, but Brayden was already stopping. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Brayden looked at him, laughing. “I don’t think so, but do you think it’s kind of weird to kiss your own name?” 

“I’m not sure.” Val grinned back; his face nearly hurt with how much he was smiling. “But I’ll tell you in a minute when I find out.” 

******Epilogue, six months later.** ** **

Louis, 6th Baron de Quebec, opened the envelope expecting to find his initial list of potential matches, but instead he was taken aback by the form letter 

_To our illustrious clients,_

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_As you may have heard, our principal has resigned from our firm following his recent engagement. Please rest assured that there will be no interruption in our services, and we will continue to serve you with the greatest care, attention, and discretion._

__

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_If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us._

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__Very Truly Yours,  
Mikko Rantanen  
Rantanen and Partners, LLC  
Formerly known as The Filppula Group 


End file.
